Is Kyle Rittenhouse Singing At Mar-a-Lago? Or Is Elvis Trump’s VP Pick?

It’s New Year’s Eve, so time to get a little wild, right? And what better place to start than the most outré residence on the North American continent, populated by the denizens of strangeness, Mar-a-Lago? Now we know exactly why Donald Trump was always promising to drain the swamp. It was because he had swamp creatures of his own, aplenty, with which to restock whatever modest imitation of swampiness that Washington may have had by comparison. This is true swamp, Florida style. Donald Trump’s having a grand old time this New Year’s Eve. He’s crashing weddings right and left and conferring his benediction upon the unwitting couples.

I wonder if there are velvet paintings of Elvis in the lounge where this guy performs? Even in Las Vegas Elvis impersonators are considered a bit gauche, but because The King spent so much time there, there’s a certain nostalgia to it. Vegas is very much Elvis country. But Palm Beach? Only in Trump world.

I’ve obtained an exclusive copy of the Mar a Lago 2024 New Years menu! Looks delicious!! pic.twitter.com/UqsumJAXel

— SnarkTank (@TheSnarkTank99) December 31, 2023

Starting a married life in a house of a rapist?

— EssenViews (@essenviews) December 30, 2023

Trump dating app: pic.twitter.com/htbl3ertez

— Kat Benjamin (@kb_katey) December 30, 2023

All the gals in the photo below aspire to be the gals in the photo above. At least that’s my theory, that’s the audience that they’re playing to. And Guilfoyle has brains. I don’t know why she would stoop to this level but maybe someday we’ll find out. Although some people have said that Junior has brains but that his issue is that he can’t figure out how to escape the orbit of his father. Seems to me that would be the first test of intelligence, how to remove oneself from a toxic environment.

And telling Dad to stick it and building his own life is what Junior needed to do. He didn’t want to give up the money. So he gave up his personhood and let Daddy run his life. Not my opinion, I’m repeating what his cousin Mary Trump said.

She got a deal from Eric.
He's having difficulty off loading the stuff.
The story of how the Trump family got the winery is about as disgusting as it gets.https://t.co/NoLF3amHVf

— Paul the other one… (@paulcshipley) December 31, 2023

Here’s a description of the Trump International and its food from the Vanity Fair article. Then we’ll get to the wine.

Now the restaurant is operated by David Burke, a New York chef and restaurateur, as a standard steak house. It serves stubbornly cold and hard popovers as a giveaway and large, overpriced portions of bland tuna tartare; Maryland crab cakes that taste of nothing other than pepper; and dull steaks. In contrast to the cheesy Trump Grill, in Manhattan, the fittings seem opulent, the service is professional, and the restaurant is fully staffed and overseen by a director of food and beverages who has the bluff heartiness of Sydney Greenstreet. The place brings to mind the grim bonhomie of Maxim’s in occupied Paris.

I certainly surprised and probably irritated the server by asking for each of the three Trump wines on the menu and also to see if there were any more kinds in the cellar. We drank through as many as we could get. With an anything-to-oblige-a-visiting-fireman shrug, the server turned up Trump wines not on the menu, and also analogous non-Trump wines for fair-comparison purposes, with my expert guest commenting on each one.

The Trump version of Chardonnay? “Oaked up,” my friend said. “Sweet. Too much residual sugar. Harvested too ripe. Flabby. Really clumsy. Goes with the cuisine.” Expensive too: $68 a bottle at the restaurant for the 2015, $22 on the Web site for the 2016.

What about the 2015 Trump Meritage, a blend of red grapes that are “sourced,” meaning trucked in from the West Coast. The label calls it “American red wine”; it sells for $30 on the Web site. My guest tasted the Meritage: “Welch’s grape jelly with alcohol. A terrible, fumy, alcoholic nose. If I served you that on an airline you’d be mad.” (A buyer at a well-known Washington wine shop I later asked to evaluate the wines—he once sold Trump vodka, produced from 2005 to 2011, because he liked it—took one sip of the Meritage, wanted no more, and said, “Grocery-store wine.”) My guest went on, “They’re lying about the alcohol on the label.” He knew this, he explained, by a strange method of marching his two front fingers down his chest after he swallowed, saying that when he could feel the alcohol down to his belly button he knew it was 14 percent alcohol, which is what the label said. But this wine pushed his fingers below the belt. He knew the Meritage was 15 percent—and a 1 percent variance, oddly, is permitted on labels. “This’ll rip you,” he said.

This is what Lara is busy imbibing and I daresay that whatever cuisine she has along with it will match the description of the usual Trump cuisine. These people are gourmands, not gourmets. They have no more of a palate for fine wine and food than they have an intellect with which to grasp and study the world in which they live. Yet, despite these shortcomings, they believe they should be running the world.

Enjoy these images and more, friends, as we say goodbye to 2023, what a year! (mops brow) and get ready to usher in 2024. Just 12 more hours here in the west.